


Scabbing Over

by tuesday



Series: Pain-sharing [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Tony Stark, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Temporary Character Death, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 04:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18242105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: Sequel to The Bleedover Effect.-Tony got back into a routine.





	Scabbing Over

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to The Bleedover Effect. Intended reading order is The Bleedover Effect, Scabbing Over, then Bleeding Secondhand. For the most fun, read TBE, to right before the last scene of Scabbing Over (you'll know where to stop), Bleeding Secondhand, then come back to finish SO.
> 
> This has all the warnings and content advisories of the first fic with some more added in the end notes. This is a series where I definitely recommend reading the advisories and understand just plain giving it a miss. 
> 
> Day three of Five Days of Tuesday. ~~I'll be posting Bleeding Secondhand just after midnight EST to cover day four, so in a little over an hour.~~ Bleeding Secondhand is posted.
> 
> Thanks to Areiton for looking this over for missing words, to the ironspider people for listening to me go on about this, and to duckmoles, natcat, and strozzzi for listening to me go on in DMs in general. You're all great. ♥

Tony eased back into society. He went out to dinner with Rhodey. He stopped by the Compound to take care of some things he'd been letting slip. He stopped by the local Stark company labs to do the same. He took Peter out several places, from dinner to a museum to a walk in the park. Peter came over and they stayed in even more, watching a couple movies and taking turns either cooking or providing takeout. Peter also supervised some limited lab time.

It was a chance to get back into a proper sleep schedule, to start taking care of himself again.

Without any pressing projects, Tony spent a lot of nights staring at the ceiling. It was easier to live in the moment when there was another person close by or when he could go to the lab and sit with the bots, even if FRIDAY wouldn't actually let him touch anything. Alone in his bed, thoughts drifting and trying desperately to stave off sleep, it was a lot harder to avoid all the things he tried not to think about.

—

Tony was taking his unofficial vacation to put his life in order, but there was a lot of empty time. He filled it with going through old possessions, sorting through all the stuff he'd accumulated in storage, then moving on to organizing his actual home. Occasionally, he came across something that made it a lot harder not to remember.

It was fine. Everything was fine. Everything was great, actually. He had safeguards in place to keep him from being a danger to others, and he had Peter in his life. He might not have the lab time he'd like, but he had only himself to blame. FRIDAY was beginning to thaw to him, and everyone else had forgiven him for either freezing them out or putting them on permanent standby.

Tony had plenty of experience with panic attacks and rampant self-loathing. This was perfectly fine. He could learn to live with it. He could live with it. He deserved to live with it.

—

Maybe Tony had fucked up here, but the rest of it?

It wasn't like any of it had actually happened. It wasn't real. None of it was real.

—

"For what it's worth," Tony said quietly late one night, tangled in the sheets and shivering in his own cold sweat, "I am sorry."

"I know," FRIDAY said.

Dawn was, as ever, a long time coming.

—

The week before Peter was supposed to move into the dorms, he came sliding in Tony's bedroom window. He knocked first, which at least let Tony know he didn't have a particularly brave cat burglar on his hands.

"You never sleep anymore," Peter said by way of explanation for why he was there.

"Certainly not when I get surprise midnight visitors."

"It's three in the morning, and I am exhausted." Peter pressed Tony back into the bed, then followed him. He wrapped himself around Tony like a particularly cuddly koala. "Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

Tony hesitantly clutched back. It would've been better if he didn't fall asleep that way, but he did.

—

Story of Tony's life, really. It would've been better if Tony didn't—but he always, always did.

—

Tony woke up to pain and the realization that he'd punched Peter in the jaw in his half-conscious, fumbling attempts to get away.

"It's okay, it's okay," Peter kept repeating like he was trying to hush a startled animal. "You're okay, Tony, it's okay."

Tony slumped in Peter's grip. "It's not real," Tony told himself, the reminder he always needed. "None of it was real. I fixed it. _I fixed it_."

Peter shook his head, but he didn't let Tony go. "It was real. You know that, right? You know that. Even if I hadn't remembered, even if you were the only one who could, it happened." He pressed a kiss to the side of Tony's head. "You're allowed to grieve."

This time, when Tony pushed Peter away, he went. "No. I'm not."

—

Considering how well their first sleepover had gone, it was a shock that Peter showed up again the next night. Then again, Peter had always been stubborn and brave to the point of Tony despairing over it. He was—he was just _so good_ , such a decent person and all around great human being.

"What are you doing here?" Tony asked quietly, unsure if he was more afraid that Peter was asleep and wouldn't hear him—or that he would. Unspoken went the self-deprecations, the recriminations, the fact they were both all too aware of the sort of person Tony was, the sort of person Tony could be.

"I want to be," Peter said simply. He shifted just enough to kiss the underside of Tony's jaw, then resettled. "I sleep better in your arms, and at least one of us needs to."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder." It wasn't an accusation, but it settled like a weight on Tony's shoulders all the same.

—

In his dreams, Peter died in his arms over and over again. When he woke up, Peter was there, solid and real. Tony didn't want to let him go.

It didn't look like Tony had woken him this time. It had only been a couple nights, but Tony whispered, "I don't know what I'm going to do when you're gone."

Peter mumbled, voice heavy with sleep, "At this rate, I'm going to outlive you."

"You're moving to the dorms in five days."

"Plenty of time to smother you if you don't go back to sleep."

—

"Can you buy a university?" Tony asked Pepper. "Maybe I could just buy it for him, and he wouldn't have to go."

"What happened to acknowledging the importance of his growth as an individual outside your influence?"

Tony did vaguely remember saying something like that in the distant past when Peter had been applying to universities and Pepper had had to talk Tony out of attempting to buy out the admissions office of every place Peter had so much as glanced at. He said, "Doesn't sound like me."

"He'll be fine, Tony. Have faith in him."

"I do." It wasn't Peter who was giving Tony cause to doubt. "What about buying an off-campus apartment building and just—moving all his stuff there instead?" Tony could move to Boston. With a quinjet, the commute wouldn't even be that bad.

"Tony, no."

—

The night before moving day, Peter said, "I don't want to wait until I graduate college."

When he got Tony on his back this time around, it wasn't chaste. They didn't keep their clothes on or their hands above the waist. Tony let Peter set the pace, but it was fast, fast, fast.

"Don't you think we've waited long enough?" Peter asked.

Tony closed his eyes and held on.

—

When Peter left, he gave Tony back the keys to his kingdom—metaphorically. He still kept the literal one, though he'd taken it off the keychain to wear on a chain around his neck. "FRIDAY, can you please find it in your heart to give Tony back his admin privileges? Or at least let him back in the lab for real instead of to keep the bots company?"

"For you, Peter," FRIDAY said. "Though I'm not entirely convinced he _isn't_ an evil clone from another universe."

"If he is, then the real one is in there, too."

They were the same person, though Tony appreciated the sentiment.

—

Tony got back into a routine. He might not sleep as well as he'd like, the bed cold and empty with Peter gone, but he went to bed all the same. FRIDAY returned to reminding him when it was time to eat or if he'd been standing in the same position too long and could probably use a break. He didn't override her when she told him it was time to pack it in for the night. He started taking care of himself, even if it wasn't for his own sake. 

(He told himself it was never for his own sake, even as he knew it was a lie.)

He did things for SI, because his leave of absence only extended so long, and he did things for the Avengers, because Rhodey asked him to, and he picked up a few other, minor special projects. Peter didn't need a new suit, but Tony made him one anyway, unable to resist. Tony didn't need a new suit, but the designs were already in his head, so why not? The days blurred together, broken up by Peter calling each night. Tony nearly let several go to voicemail before remembering at the last moment that he was allowed to answer them now.

"I miss you," Peter said, because he was braver than Tony had ever been, or, "Be more careful welding. You don't have a healing factor," or, "I'm thinking about picking up some engineering."

For his part, Tony found it hard to talk, all the words he wanted most to say frozen in his throat. He settled for, "Me, too," or, "Don't think I didn't notice you sprained your wrist. I don't care if you have a healing factor; you need to be more careful stopping muggers and helping little old ladies across the street," or, "Do what makes you happy." He thought, _I love you, I love you, I love you. Please be happy._

Sometimes he got into a bit of a groove when designing. He'd be working on one of the gauntlets for the armor, practically on automatic, only to realize that those weren't repulsors he was trying to build into the knuckles. It was like going back to the days after he got out of the weapons business, missiles and munitions designs flitting around in the back of his head, ready and waiting for the moment he wasn't paying attention to burst back into the world. Tony would shut it down, tell FRIDAY to delete his work, and retreat upstairs. 

Peter had spent time on the roof the day he'd extracted his promise, and Tony found himself climbing out there seeking whatever solace Peter had found. There didn't seem to be any left over for Tony. It didn't stop him from trying. The roof tiles were cold and hard under his ass. The sky was blue. Peter was hours away and didn't need Tony showing up in the middle of campus because he wanted a hug. Tony rested his head on his knees and closed his eyes. 

He was okay. He could make it through this. He'd made it through much worse.

—

(Tony wasn't okay. Tony really, really wasn't okay.)

—

Peter came home for fall break. He spent most of Thanksgiving and some of the rest of it with May. He spent the rest of it with Tony, pressing him into or over almost every available soft surface and some not so soft ones. He kissed Tony like he was saving up, collecting every last drop of affection for the coming drought.

"I could, oh, I could come visit," Tony offered, pants barely hanging on around his left ankle and ankles crossed around Peter's waist. The edge of the kitchen counter dug into his ass. "Whenever you wanted."

"You could," Peter said, but it wasn't agreement. He licked a warm, wet line up Tony's throat.

 _Whatever you want, I'd give it to you_ , Tony thought. He said, "Just a thought."

Peter hummed and sucked marks into the places he'd licked. Tony tipped his head back and did his best not to beg. In this one case, it was good enough.

Then Peter changed the angle, and Tony was begging anyway.

—

Despite the distractions of superheroing and humoring an old man's affections, Peter did really well his first semester. Tony wasn't surprised, but he was proud.

 _That's my soulmate_ , he wanted to crow to anyone who'd stand still long enough.

Pepper was kind enough not to laugh at him. Rhodey had no such compunctions.

"Your soulmate is some kind of genius." Rhodey grinned at him over lunch. "I'm terribly surprised. I never would have expected it. Next you'll tell me he's also some kind of adrenaline junky who dresses up in costume to fight bad guys."

Tony tried hard to hang onto his smile. "Yeah, well. I never said he was perfect."

Rhodey flicked a tiny wad of straw wrapper at him. "Perfect for you, though."

Peter was. 

—

"I distinctly remember you having a bedroom at your Aunt May's place," Tony mumbled groggily as Peter slid into his bed. "Did she already turn it into an office?"

Peter kissed Tony's cheek. "It doesn't have you in it."

Tony wrapped his arms around Peter and went back to sleep.

—

Sometimes Peter was there in the morning. Sometimes he wasn't. Tony had the sense that he wasn't the only one trying to deal with things.

December slid into January, and all too soon his bed was always empty again.

—

In February, Tony fell off the roof.

It was stupid. Everything was iced over where it wasn't piles of snow. He never should have been up there.

But he'd come out of a design fugue with FRIDAY's voice in his ear saying, "Boss, you told me you didn't want to build this," and the wrong gauntlet's blueprints spread out before him. The sky was overcast, cloudy and grey, and it had fit his mood. Every breath burned with the cold. Tony had settled his ass in the snow covering his roof and stayed out there until he couldn't feel his fingers or toes, everything gone pleasantly numb.

When he levered himself up, his hand slipped. The rest followed. He almost caught himself on the gutter, tips of his fingers connecting for the briefest moment before he was in the air.

He thought, _Oh, this is going to hurt_. 

Then it did.

—

Objectively, he didn't have too long to wait for help to come. First, there was the ringing of his cell phone, in his pocket and miraculously in one piece, only seconds after he hit the ground. He couldn't answer that, but that was okay. The ambulance came for him not too much later. Tony kept still, not wanting to make the pain worse.

"Thanks, FRIDAY," he mumbled.

She had strict instructions about speaking where strangers could hear her in public, but he imagined her voice saying, "Any time, boss."

—

Tony was lucky. He'd landed on a hedge and a very large snowdrift. He hadn't broken his back. He hadn't hit his head, had instead instinctively tucked it forward as he'd fallen. Nothing had shattered, though his right leg and right arm were both very, very broken. He was bruised down to his spleen, but nothing had ruptured.

"So when can you move me?"

"You want to go home?" his current doctor asked disbelievingly.

Tony waved his good hand and winced when it tugged at his IV. "While that would be nicer than this—still very nice—private room, no. I was thinking a bit further. I have a very competent team in Hong Kong."

"Mr. Stark, you are looking at _at least_ one more surgery. It's inadvisable to travel out of the country right now. If you're that unhappy with your current medical team or want a second opinion, I can refer you to someone else, or you can fly them here—"

"Out of the question."

The doctor gave Tony a somewhat sympathetic look. "Soulmate, huh? Well, you've certainly got the money for it. You can always send them away. But I can't in good conscience advise you do any traveling right now."

Tony clenched his jaw. "I'm not asking for your advice."

So of course that was when his cell phone started ringing again. The screen read, "Peter Parker calling."

"Sorry, but I need to take this." Tony made shooing motions, and, rolling her eyes, the doctor collected the tablet she was using to access his chart. "Accept call."

"You're an idiot."

"Hello, dear. You're on speakerphone." The doctor was on her way out, though.

"I'm sending Dr. Banner to sit on you."

"Bruce? Really?"

"He's the only one close enough I don't think you could buy off or annoy into submission." The door closed, and Peter must have heard they were alone, because he said, "FRIDAY told me you wanted to leave the country."

"You have classes, and the Cradle's not meant for anything as frivolous as a broken bone. I'm not putting you through more of this."

"A compound fracture isn't frivolous, and I've already put in for a brief medical leave."

"What? That's not—"

"My right arm is blue where it's not black. Trust me, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be attending classes right now."

Tony closed his eyes. "You'll heal faster if I'm further away."

Peter was quiet for a moment. "Tony. You don't—" He sighed. "I've always felt your pain like I was in the next room."

Tony couldn't describe the sound he made at that.

Peter's voice was humorless as he said, "Besides, we both know it's not the worst pain I've ever felt. Not even for you."

"Peter—" Peter's name felt like it was being scraped from his throat. 

Peter ignored him. "I'm headed there, too. Don't you dare try to leave the hospital. I'll follow you to Hong Kong if I need to."

"FRIDAY, you are a traitor," Tony declared after Peter hung up on him.

"Peter still has higher priority than you do," FRIDAY said primly.

Of course he did.

The door opened. Tony didn't immediately look up. "That was fast. You gave me barely any time at all."

"No. It took me far too long to find you."

Tony didn't have the newest armor. If he did, maybe he wouldn't have fallen off the roof in the first place. He didn't have his glasses and wristband gauntlets. Even if he'd been wearing them when he'd fallen, they would've been removed for the x-rays and CAT scan. All he had was a thin hospital gown, double-sided anti-skid socks to keep his toes warm, and an IV, plus a cell phone he couldn't reach. None of that would help him against someone he had last seen being sucked out of an alien spaceship in a universe that no longer existed.

"FRIDAY—" was all Tony managed to get out before he didn't have the breath for it. All that came bubbling up was blood, spilling out of his mouth and down his chin.

Ebony Maw's eyes gleamed with the fervency of a zealot as he said, "This is for my master." 

Tony thought, _Peter_.

A crystal blade cut out his heart.

—

He really wasn't expecting to come back from that.

He came back anyway, falling over into Peter's arms. They weren't in the hospital. An alien sky was overhead rather than the hospital's tiled drop ceiling that was part of the last thing he'd seen. They were outside somewhere, on the edge of a cliff. There was—something was wrong. Peter was crying, but he was also smiling so wide it looked like it hurt. Tony took in a deep breath, and it should have hurt—it shouldn't have been possible—none of this was _right_ —

Peter's arms cradled Tony. One hand clasped his hip. The other rested on the back of his neck. It was clad in something metal.

"I've got you." Peter buried his nose in Tony's hair. "I've got you, Tony."

Tony's knees were weak. He put his hands to Peter's chest and pushed. Peter only allowed him half a foot of space, but that was enough for another look at his face. Tony tried for another deep breath, but he couldn't—he couldn't breathe. Peter looked like he'd aged years overnight. 

Dazed, confused—horrified—Tony asked, "Peter, what did you do?"

Thor, of all people—who had been somewhere in Scandinavia, setting up New Asgard, last Tony had known—appeared in Tony's peripheral vision and clapped them both on the back, knocking them back into each other. Thor's eyes were bright. "Your soul's match has retrieved you from the gates of Hel, along with a great many others. This is an occasion for joy and celebration."

Tony asked, "Did you make an Infinity Gauntlet? How the hell did you make an Infinity Gauntlet?"

"You do remember that time I got all your memories, right? And FRIDAY had instructions to send all your designs to me before deleting anything. I didn't so much make it as put some half-completed designs together." Tony really, really didn't want to know what was resting on the back of his neck. Tony knew exactly what was resting on the back of his neck. "The hard part was collecting the Infinity Stones."

Thor beamed at them. "If you'll excuse me, I must attend my mother."

"What is going on?" 

"Hey, hey. Easy now. Breathe." Peter sounded concerned, and Tony would like to follow his instructions, but it felt like something was pressing on his chest, keeping him from drawing the air in. "You're okay."

"What did you do?"

"I fixed it," Peter said over the ringing in Tony's ears. Tony tipped sideways, knees going out from under him, and Peter pulled him back upright, held him there. "Not like—it's okay, Tony. We didn't—no one was hurt. Everyone's okay. I didn't—I didn't try to remake the universe or anything."

Tony was shaking, and Peter lowered them both to the ground. He never once let go.

"I promise." Peter rubbed Tony's back. "Everything's okay."

"I am so confused," Tony admitted.

"I got that," Peter said. He sounded like he was laughing. Tears were running down his face.

"Explain it to me?"

Peter did.

**Author's Note:**

> Content advisories: everything from the end notes of TBE, mental health issues, (temporary) main character death, still a resolution that does not wrap everything up or fix everything, though it is not completely unfixed, either? Please let me know if you have any questions or special concerns.


End file.
